


sweet embrace of hell

by TheUmbraphage



Series: Demonic Heritage [1]
Category: Persona 5
Genre: Alternate Universe - Demons, Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, Angst, Bakeneko Morgana, Child Abuse, Child Neglect, Childhood Friends, Childhood Trauma, Demon Arsene, Demons, Exorcist Kurusu Akira, Exorcists, Fluff, Gen, Half-Vampire Akechi Goro, Half-Vampires, No Beta, Pre-Relationship, Running Away, Vampires, We Die Like Men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-05
Updated: 2019-04-05
Packaged: 2020-01-05 04:10:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18358352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheUmbraphage/pseuds/TheUmbraphage
Summary: In desperate times, something as simple as a hand to grasp and tether yourself to is enough to salvage ruin.





	sweet embrace of hell

For as long as he could remember, his mother and father sheltered him from the “dangers of the world,” pulling him away whenever he saw those children across the street - the ones with extra eyes, skin a rainbow of colors, fingernails that looked more like claws than his own rounded ones. They would hiss at him about how those children, “witches,” he’d later learn they were called by the majority of society, were monsters he shouldn’t associate with as a human.

 

Yet, for as long as he could remember, whenever he looked into a mirror, he’d see a flash of black feathered wings as red eyes gleamed curiously at him. Not long after his first glimpses of the odd entity in the mirror, he started seeing another boy hovering around him. A crown of curly black hair that was exactly like his own, eyes the same shape as his own. It was like looking at his own reflection, only he had gray eyes, no feathers, and, decidedly, less eyes.

 

Akira hadn’t spoken to him once, because it seemed his parents couldn’t see his constant presence when they took him grocery shopping, to the playground, or to and from school. None of the neighbors could see him. None of the other kids could see him, only giving him odd looks and teasing him for still having an imaginary friend at the age of 5.

 

“Kurusu, Karasu, Korosu-zen!” had become the chant some other boys had come up with, and soon the rest of his small class joined in. A bad omen, he had become. They’d all run squealing and screaming from him during recess. They wouldn’t sit near him in class unless the teacher forced them to - even then, in spite of the sting in his eyes from everyone turning on him and the sneering whispers, his teacher chastised him for disturbing the peace at the school.

 

When he came home in tears, his mother barely looked at him as she scolded, “You shouldn’t cause trouble for attention like that.”

 

Later that night, his cheek still stung red, his eyes still stung red, as he lay in bed, holding his Feather Red plush close, remembering his father spitting at him, “Disgraceful child. Watch yourself; I can’t afford losing my reputation over  _ you _ .”

 

He couldn’t understand why his parents’ gaze had frosted over when they looked at him, but he stopped crying around them, around his classmates. He grew quiet over the next few months, the next year, as he cared less for trying to befriend those who had teased him relentlessly for that whole month or so.

 

Those red eyes still stared at him, but Akira couldn’t bring himself to hate the other boy, even though the other boy looked like those “monsters” his parents had warned him about. In spite of the boy’s presence leading to his hurt, he couldn’t bring himself to hate him at all - why? Monsters are ugly creatures who hurt others, his mother had told him, so that’s why he mustn’t dare talk to those other kids across the street at that other school. Yet, that other boy had done nothing to hurt him. Yet, he had seen the ugly, twisted sneers on his peers’ faces instead of  _ them _ .

 

Akira couldn’t help but marvel at the other boy’s feathers and the second set of eyes that sat perfectly below the more human-looking ones. They looked more beautiful than anything he’s ever seen.

 

It was an early winter morning when he got up to watch some morning airings of Neo Featherman R, when the cold house was silent with his parents’ missing presence after leaving for work, when Akira finally turned his gaze away from the episode to look at the boy sitting beside him, who was staring intently at the screen. “What’s your name?”

 

A pause. The boy seemed puzzled at his sudden words, but replied in a voice like his own, “You may call me Arséne.”

 

“That’s a weird name…” he commented before offering a bright smile. “I like it! I’m Akira.”

 

“It is an old moniker I haven’t used in years, but I am glad it is to your liking, Akira,” the boy smiled in return. The feathers of his wings rustled slightly, a soft hum to Akira’s ears.

 

Akira scrunched up his nose slightly as he tried repeating, “Moni...Monekir?”

 

“Moniker,” Arséne corrected, “It means a name.”

 

“You talk kinda weird… Are you older than me?”

 

“Hey, I can talk normal,” he mimicked with a pout. “I’m sorta almost six, but I’m also waaay older too.”

 

“That...doesn’t make sense.” Akira stared at his strange lookalike. When Arséne didn’t clarify, he ignored his unease for his next barrage of questions: “Are you a witch?”

 

Red eyes blinked at him, baffled and somehow deeply offended. “No way, I’m more pure than a witch.”

 

“...Pure?”

 

“Mm! My blood is more pure than a witch’s.”

 

“What do you mean?” Akira was growing winded by his confusion; all he knew was from what his mother told him, but she never did go into details.

 

“Y’know how there are humans and there are demons and vampires?”

 

He nodded, hesitant.

 

“Witches are half vampires. And vampires are descended from demons…”

 

“De...shended?”

 

“Descended! It’s like vampires are demons’ grandchildren.”

 

Akira stared blankly at Arséne, and the feathered boy grew slightly flustered as he began to twirl his bangs.

 

“Ah, I’ll tell you more later…”

 

Akira noticed the boy deflate at his confusion. Determined, he declared, “Okay… I do wanna know more though! Maybe you can show me books!”

 

“If you take me to your school library, I can find them for you.”

 

“COOL!” Akira grinned, catching Arséne slightly off guard before the other boy mirrored his grin, showing teeth that looked more like fangs. “Wanna play, Arséne?”

 

“Play?” he tilted his head.

 

Akira’s eyes bugged out. This boy didn’t know how to play? That was it; he will show this strange boy his entire collection of Featherman action figures.

**Author's Note:**

> A short chapter, but I didn't want to get too carried away and ramble for another 5,000 words quite yet. More will be revealed about this AU and what exactly Arsene is in upcoming chapters and the next installment (...or you can drop an ask at my [Tumblr](https://umbraphage.tumblr.com/))! I hope you enjoyed reading.
> 
> Special thanks to A-kun for helping me solidify this AU and letting me use his character design for Goro! Check out his [Tumblr](https://pufferlich.tumblr.com/); he draws the cutest art! ~~you deserve all my love, A~~ I am very excited to write Goro in this AU.
> 
> This will be a pretty short fic (I expect 5 chapters max if I don't get too carried away) focusing on Akira's childhood and his friendship with Arsene, Morgana, and Goro, in that order. The next installment will focus on his adulthood as an exorcist.
> 
> Note: "Kurusu, Karasu, Korosu-zen!" translates to "Kurusu, Crow, (he'll) kill us all!". Please accept my poor Japanese.


End file.
